


moonless, starless, timeless

by orphan_account



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - False Utopia, Doctor!Jinyoung, Gen, M/M, bambam has a cat, jay b has dual colored eyes, lots of weird color metaphors, mentions of blood and gore and violence, not for plot purposes but because i said so, rebel!jaebeom, this is just a bambam love fest really, u know that one soulmate trope where u can't see color, until u meet The One or whatever, which sounds cool and IS cool, yeah they live in a world where that's a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 17:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: And then, slowly, but all at once, the man turns. His eyes meet Jinyoung’s, and ---- the entire world changes.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Im Jaebum | JB, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. rosa

It’s always monochrome in their world.

Grey cuts through the sky, and the sun is no more than a ball of white, blinding light embedded into its center with deadly precision. The concrete, dull and worn, cracks like spiderwebs running through them, is shaded a dim-grey. The shadows of the looming buildings, the towering houses and the dying trees are painted a dark black where they fall onto the ground, the center of the street, against walls. Everyone’s coats always look the same. As do the hair on their heads, the bags in their hands, and the shine on their shoes. Everything is black, white and grey. Everything is far too cold.

Washed out white on the banister of the staircases leading down to the subway tunnel. Dark grey on the stairs themselves. Black where his shadow melts into the ground. Davy’s grey on the walls of the subway and the subway grates. Ash grey on the field across from work. Stone grey on the notebook he uses at work, pure black ink scratching out words on the pages. And then washed out white on the street lamps on the commute back home, dark grey on the door to his home, ash grey on Pudding’s fur when he scuttles out to greet him, davy’s grey on the shirt Bambam’s wearing in the kitchen, stone grey on the bowl he’s holding, black on the shadow he casts on the counter across from him. 

Jinyoung’s world has always been shades of grey and white and black, even when it comes to seeing the people he loves the most. His hands, reaching out to ruffle the already messy hair on Bambam’s head as a form of greeting, are melting into the color of the rug. Bambam’s eyes are as dark as the night sky outside. In the hospital, the tubes connected to his patients’ arms are all transparent and grey. From the window, it seems like the craters on the moon have melted into her body, and she looks like a smooth ball of light suspended mid-air. She does not smile. If she does, he does not see it.

The spring-time flowers. The first few snowflakes from the clouds. The fields of grass beyond the city. The buildings stacked together. The signs reading,  _ beware  _ and  _ do not trespass.  _ The inside of the bus he takes to get to work. The windows at home. The river a few miles away from the city. All of it is dull, worn out, and exists as single shades.

In their world, everything is monochrome.

At least, until you meet the one.


	2. hyacinth

The first defection happened in the outskirts of the city. It was a young boy, they said, no older than Bambam, and he’d run from his home until he was at the gates, and then barrelled out precisely seconds before the gates shut at sunset. He’d run out screaming. The gates had shut seconds after he’d slipped out. Where he stood, there was a cloud of dust, and muffled screaming from beyond, and nothing else. The screaming stopped along with the gunshots.

And the next day, the riots began.

Thousands defected. Some jumped over the gates, others ran through them, others stayed in the city and threw whatever they could find at the house of the mayor. The streets were painted black with blood. Bodies laid restless on the ground after the patrollers and police got involved. Batons were hurled, guns fired, fists flying everywhere as the citizens finally fought back for their rights. At the hospital, bodies upon bodies were deposited at the front gate, all injured in various degrees. People died for their freedom.

He still can’t forget the fear that had plagued the city afterwards. The way parents look at their children like they didn’t know who they were, the way children would turn their heads down whenever they witnessed someone getting beaten up, the looming shadows of the patrollers at his heels when he went to work, the blood on the streets after the protests. A hundred and twenty six dead bodies burned at the fields because the mayor’s office didn’t recognize them as citizens and would therefore not give them a burial. Four hundred and ninety nine in the hospital, immediately taken to the detention center after their recovery. 

“Do you think it’ll be peaceful now?” Bambam had asked, one day. They’d been outside their home, watching their neighbor get dragged out of his house because he mouthed off to one of the patrollers. (“You’ll never silence me, bastard,” the man had said.) It was the seventh week after the protests and the entire city was electrified with a tension he couldn’t put a name to.

“No.” Jinyoung had told him. He didn’t like lying to Bambam -- he was all he had. “No, it won’t be.”

Like a lot of things, he was right about that too.

The Uprising begins like this: on a Sunday, when Jinyoung’s on his way to mass with Bambam, there’s a group of people gathered at the bus stop by the mayor’s house. There’s most of the usual bus-goers, all dressed in their best clothes for mass, and a group of patrollers making panicked phone calls. There’s a lot of noise. Cameras clicking, shutters going off, sirens in the distance. 

The wall of the mayor’s house has been vandalized completely. It’s a washed out white, and on it, in pure black, it reads:

_ No more complicity. We demand freedom.  _

Mass is canceled that day, and all citizens are advised to stay indoors.

…..

(He doesn’t understand how, but Jinyoung loves Bambam in colors.

He loves Bambam in pink, when he comes home after a long day of picking apart bodies in the morgue and falls into his arms, burying his nose into his hair until he forgets the scent of sterilizing liquid and the sound of screaming from the psych ward. He loves him in yellow, when they’re outside and their hands are linked between them while they wait for the bus, and Bambam is absentmindedly humming a melody from years ago and Jinyoung is watching the smile bloom on his face. He loves him in red, when they argue and he feels like he’s about to wrestle out of his own skin because Bambam drives him  _ insane  _ but he still stays because his heart clenches at the thought of having to leave him behind. He loves him in purple, when their lips meet in the first, summer warm kiss after a big fight, a truce of sorts, the promise that they’ll stay forever. 

He loves him in blue, when the two of them walk by actual soulmates who can see colors and Bambam instinctively holds onto his hand a little tighter. He loves him in black, when the gunshots sound from the distance and Bambam flinches like he’s been hit. He loves him in grey, when neither of them can muster up the courage to confess that they’re having a hard time and can only hold onto each other for comfort and warmth. He loves him in white, all the different ways he knows how to, because the world is cruel and ugly and monochrome and bland, but Bambam makes him feel like it’s anything but.

His soulmate will be the one who’ll show him what the colors are really like. Their eyes will meet, and the world around him, from the sky to the ground to everything in between, will burst into hues he knows only from books. 

But he will never love them in color. He’ll never love them like pink and yellow and purple and red, like grey and black and blue and white.

He’ll never love them, not like he loves Bambam. Never like he loves him, because he taught Jinyoung what color was long before he even saw it.)

….

_ Notice from the Mayor’s Office _

_ Dear Citizens, _

_ It has come to our notice, that as of late, riots in the city are becoming increasingly common. We would like to remind everyone that this is a city of peace, and that acts of violence will not be tolerated. The police and patrollers have full authority to take you under custody should you choose to support the uprising in any way. You are either with us, the good people, or with them, the bad people. Being neutral is not an option. _

_ Should you engage in any behavior which can link you back to the uprising, you will face dire consequences. The path of rebellion is not the right one, and regardless of how they try to persuade you, they are wrong about the government. They know nothing about us. Their purpose is to split us, divide us so they can overthrow the current government and establish their dictatorship. They will kill us, one by one, until they get what they want.  _

_ Stick to the good side, citizens of the city. May the light guard you, always. _

_ Yours sincerely, _

_ The Mayor. _

….

That night, the gunshots come too close to their house. The screams are more real, some of them recognizable even, and the world suddenly becomes even more dull.

“It’s okay,” he tells Bambam, even if it clearly isn’t. They’re pressed into the space between the closet and the wall, Jinyoung with his arms around Bambam even if he’s taller and it’s a tight fit. Bambam is leaning against his chest and he’s holding his hands. He’s breathing a lot faster than he should be. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

A bullet sails dangerously close to their mailbox. The clattering noise of metal crunching and falling apart has Bambam holding on tighter.

“I know,” he mumbles. His voice is soft, and when he inhales, he shakes like he’s trying not to cry. “I’m just scared. It’s so  _ loud _ .”

Black. He loves him in black, when their monochrome world darkens and everything feels like it’s tilting too fast.

“I’ve got you,” he tells him again, a promise sealed with a kiss against the side of his head, his hands finding Bambam’s and squeezing with all the conviction he could muster up, and leans his head against the wall because he’s so  _ tired  _ and he wants it to be over. “I’m here, hm?”

When morning comes, the gunshots have stopped. Bambam falls asleep against him, and their hands are still linked together.

….

An hour later, Jinyoung leaves for work. He doesn’t want to leave, not when Bambam’s eyes are so tired and he’s slumped over in bed, ready to bolt at the first sight of trouble, his hands shaking while Pudding settles in his lap and purrs, but he doesn’t have a choice. If he doesn’t go to work, the patrollers will demand to know where he is, and that means a home visit, which he knows Bambam won’t be able to handle. So he begrudgingly tears himself away from Bambam, gets dressed, and kisses him by the doorway as he always does before work.

“I’ll come home soon.” He promises. It’s always nice to be like this, standing a heartbeat apart after a kiss, Bambam’s hands on the lapels of his coat, his arms around Bambam’s waist. He feels like belonging. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” Bambam says. And then he smiles, just barely, and the entire world becomes a little lighter to Jinyoung. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Pink. He loves him in pink, when his heart flutters and soars like a baby bird in flight. When everything is okay and falling into place. 

He allows himself a second longer than usual when Bambam pulls him into his arms and holds him. Then he leaves, and Bambam locks the door behind him.

The buses aren’t going in his neighborhood anymore, so he has to walk to the next one. There are bloodstains on the concrete, but the bodies are gone. It makes him sick, knowing that people were shot dead right outside where he lives, that lives had been taken by authorities, that the lives had meant something to others. Everytime he comes across a bloodstain, a deep black among the white stone, he feels his heart get a little heavier.

When he gets out of his neighborhood and into the next, where the mayor’s office is, there’s a riot.

Strangely, he doesn’t run. Instead, he finds that he’s fucking  _ paralyzed  _ with fear at the sight of citizens being dragged by police, at the sound of batons cracking bones. Of the blood running along the pavements, of the screaming that echoes through the streets. Of the sirens, of the sound of footsteps, of the curses. His heart burns with the desire to look away, with the desire to run, with the desire to escape, but he can’t move.

But amidst the chaos, there is a man.

He’s standing away from the heckling crowd, his weight resting on one foot instead of both. Everything about him is put-together, from the creaseless shirt under his unbuttoned trench coat to the tips of his shiny shoes and the symmetrical shoe laces. His mouth is pressed to a grim line, and his fingers are rapidly fiddling with the lighter in his hands.

Then he smiles, and throws the lighter at the mayor’s office. It bursts into flames, and the heckling crowd collectively screams. Jinyoung seems to be the only one who notices.

And then, slowly, but all at once, the man turns. His eyes meet Jinyoung’s, and --

\-- the entire world changes.

It’s  _ beautiful _ . His heart skips a beat at the sight of the warmth in the sky, the solidity of the ground, the highlights on the trees, the shades on the buildings. The spring flower by the corner is a bright, warm hue. It’s  _ colorful _ . He’s seeing color. The monochrome world he’s known his entire life shifts and melts into something else, into something warm, into something beautiful, and his heart feels like it’s about to burst at the sight.

The man blinks. One of his eyes are light, and the other is dark. There is a set of twin moles above one of his eyes. His lips part, taking in everything around him, and it’s almost like Jinyoung can hear how his heart stutters and stumbles and falls against his chest.

_ That’s your soulmate,  _ is his first thought, and it feels like he’s been doused in gasoline and set on fire.

_ The color of the sky really does look like Bambam’s laugh,  _ is his second thought. It feels like the air is lodged in his throat when he tries to breathe.

The man moves first, tearing his eyes away as he briskly walks away, turning into a corner away from Jinyoung. Jinyoung doesn’t move to stop him, doesn’t ask him his name or what he’s doing or if he could see it too.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the first tear drips down his cheek and onto the ground. Doesn’t realize he’s having trouble breathing until he gasps and the air starts flowing in his lungs again.

Beyond him, the flames from the house of the mayor rages, and the riot goes on. 

**Author's Note:**

> (microscope crackles) i said ARE Y'ALL READY FOR ANOTHER ADDITION TO THE POLY SHIPS OF GOT7 THAT NO ONE FUCKING ASKED FOR
> 
> to be fair i SUPER enjoy jinbambeom as a dynamic so i thought i'd write something cute and light hearted at which point my brain said no and i had to turn it Emotional and Angsty. as always i suck at prefacing and in writing in general but . hey let's see where this goes. 
> 
> my curiouscat is aceshua and my twitter is defhwa !! please come say hi :D


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